Alternate Halloweens
by AnnaDruvez
Summary: YAHF. One Shots set in BTVS during and just after the episode "Halloween." Some of these may become standalone stories eventually, but I doubt it.
1. Chapter 1

**Alternate Halloweens**

_A series of one shots, just because I've never done a BTVS fiction (or a BTVS **Halloween** fiction) and I feel left out._

_**Disclaimer**_

_Seriously? Okay, I do not own BTVS or Forgotten Realms. I'd like to but, alas, Joss Whedon and a bunch of folks working first for TSR (and, of late, Wizards of the Coast) got there before me._

_**Sites Posted**_

_This should only appear on fanfiction dot net and TtH._

* * *

><p><strong>How It Begins<strong>

Xander was furious. He'd gone all the way to the costume shop and picked up his toy gun, only to find out that his mother had trashed his planned fatigues last month. He stared in dejection at the gun sitting in his hands and turned to head out the door. Maybe he'd get lucky and that Ethan guy would let him trade it for something else.

He was more than lucky. Not only was he willing to let Xander trade the gun, but Ethan was closing down for the year and let him have the pick of the remaining costumes. The only question was what to go as? Xander was puttering back and forth, wracked by indecision, when he heard the store owner's voice behind him. "Perhaps you might like this one..."

* * *

><p>The morning after Halloween, no one could remember seeing Xander after the spell ended the night before. That wasn't so abnormal. If they were honest with themselves, there were times that they failed to notice he was there even when they were talking to him. High school girls could be extremely self-centered, super powered or not.<p>

Still, they let out a sigh of relief when Xander finally wandered in. "Guys... I think I have a problem..."

* * *

><p><strong>Reality 137<strong>

_Halloween Night_

Artemis Entreri wasn't sure how he'd gotten here, but he damn well knew that this is not where he was fifteen minutes ago. He'd never been in a town where assorted monsters and denizens of the Nine Hells were allowed to rampage like this. Usually the so-called heroes would have stepped in by now. A quick sidestep placed him in the relative safety of a shadow and he blended into it easily, watching the chaos. Jarlaxle would have loved this...

He gave himself a mental shake. Jarlaxle loved a lot of things. Artemis was well rid of the meddling drow elf and – if he was lucky – would never have to see him _or_ that damned flute again. He sighed and noticed a red haired human female running towards him. "Xander! Xander!"

His lips quirked downwards into a frown. _She shouldn't have been able to see me. She..._ A small demon ran straight through her and Artemis blinked. _A ghost or shade of some sort?_ He was sure they supposed to be more... gray.

She stopped in front of him, gasping in a vain attempt to catch her breath. "Xander..."

Artemis cut her off. "I have no idea who this Xander you're looking for is. Go away."

She blinked at him. "OK... I'm Willow. I dressed as a ghost and now I am. Xander dressed as..." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Oh, what was the name?... Entreaty? Entropy?"

He felt more than a little annoyance, but had already noticed that there were some things off about the body he was wearing. She hadn't offered much of an explanation, but she might have more information that he could use. "Artemis Entreri?"

She nodded. "That was it! Weird... I thought Artemis was a girl's name." He growled and she continued hurriedly. "Um... Okay, so I'm not really sure how it happened, but we seem to have become our costumes..."

"A wizard, no doubt." He shook his head and his eyes narrowed. Artemis hated anyone using magic on him at all, much less using it to rip him out of his body and into another one. _Though why anyone would wear a costume of __**me**__ to a masquerade... _"And you have no idea who it was?"

Willow shook her head. "Giles might know, but..." Her eyes landed on a noblewoman not far away. "Oh my god, Buffy?"

Artemis wasn't sure why he followed the ghost. Perhaps it was because she was the only one who had the slightest clue what had happened. Perhaps it was because there was a little voice in the back of his mind begging him to please protect them and not kill them. It was insisting that his 'host' called them friends. Either way, he followed Willow and the protesting noblewoman to this 'Buffy's House.' He used Charon's Claw to summon walls of ash and darkness to block the paths of approaching creatures and get there safely.

After they arrived, a quick glance in a reflective surface revealed what he already knew to be true. This wasn't his original body. Though, Xander's skin had his own slightly gray pallor. Artemis had to wonder if it would leave the boy when he – hopefully – went home. The one portrait he found seemed to show that the discoloration was his fault – not the host's.

Shortly thereafter, Willow departed to try to seek help from the minor mage and scholar she called 'Giles.' Her exit left Artemis alone with the brainless noblewoman – Buffy – and the scandalously dressed brunette that Willow referred to as Cordelia. Neither seemed particularly happy to have him there, and he'd have preferred not to be there. He supposed that made it even.

Still, Willow was going to try to get the spell ended and all she had asked in return was that he keep the other two females safe. It wasn't much by way of payment, but he supposed that it would suffice. If he didn't kill them himself. Buffy was more annoying than Do'Urden, and he hadn't thought that that was even _possible_.

Of course, it didn't take long for things to get worse.

_Who was the idiot that invited a **vampire** into the house? _Whoever it was, the first vampire was quickly followed by a second. Buffy ran out screaming, while Artemis dealt with the threat. He gave a quick slash with Charon's Claw. Both the wrestling vampires – including the one Cordelia referred to as 'Angel' – were dispatched.

He was quickly out the door and chasing Buffy. Cordelia was following closely behind him. She was making enough noise to wake any dead that _hadn't_ already gotten up and started walking. He had to wonder if he'd been infected with whatever chaos was inherent in Jarlaxle. _It would explain a lot about tonight._

Fortunately, it didn't take long to find the girl. Unfortunately, they were pursued by the various creatures that the local children had turned into. Artemis could have easily handled them and the vampire directing them, but the voice in the back of his mind kept demanding that he not harm the innocent. _As if innocence ever lent __**any**__ protection to __**anyone**__._

Nonetheless, they ran.

They barricaded themselves in a warehouse. Buffy was being about as much help as Artemis had come to expect in their short time together. In short, she was no help at all. She stood back and squealed every time one of their pursuers growled or snarled.

At least Cordelia helped him move things in front of the entry. There wasn't much to move and what there was wasn't heavy. He didn't expect the makeshift obstacle to keep the creatures outside for very long. From the way they were moving the walls and doors, they were obnoxiously strong.

Artemis frowned and drew his blades. The voice in the back of his head protested, but he pointed out that he was not about to die just because these so-called children had no idea what was happening. They _were_ trying to kill him. The voice started to argue, but quieted quickly. Apparently his host didn't want to die either.

The barrier held longer than Artemis had expected. Still, it did fall. Cordelia didn't argue or try to talk him out of sinking his blades into the creatures. She kept herself and Buffy behind him, as he let himself settle into the rhythm of the fight. He approved of her sensible decision to stay out of his way.

A stab here. A slice there. The ring of steel as it reverberated from cutting through bone. This dance was one he knew well. It was death and life intertwined together. All that kept him alive was the stretching motion of muscle and the power of well-honed skills. Artemis reveled in the familiar comfort of battle.

More demons streamed in and Artemis was separated from the women. Buffy screamed and squealed, but a quick look told him that she wasn't injured as of yet. Cordelia was keeping her away from the monsters and searching for a weapon. He was reluctantly impressed at her ability to keep a cool head.

Artemis decapitated the last of the demonic foes in front of him and glanced around. The females had been cornered on the other side of the warehouse. Cordelia seemed to be holding them off with a thin steel pipe. It wasn't the most effective weapon, but she at least seemed to know the basics of how to use it. The voice in his mind seemed to think it was due to training as a cheerleader. _Whatever that is..._

He started towards them...

The world tilted sideways as his host became active and took back their body.

Xander righted himself and looked around him. There were a lot of dead children and a few that actually _had _been demons. He looked at where Buffy and Cordelia were dealing with the still conscious and living ones. There was a lot of sniffling and crying coming from the remaining pint-sized humans. No doubt Snyder would find a way to blame the Scoobies for this.

He looked back to the thirty or so small corpses at his feet and he felt his chest tighten with remorse and inwardly-directed rage. The others weren't to blame, but Xander keenly felt the responsibility for their deaths. His vision blurred and he melted into the shadows. _I can't... I have to... I need to be alone._

None of them noticed an irritated blonde vampire slipping away.

* * *

><p><em>The Morning After<em>

Buffy, Giles and Willow blinked at the slightly slightly grayish pallor of Xander's skin and the blades he still wore. The only reason none of them were jumping for weapons, he knew, was that he had deliberately placed himself in a patch of sunlight. There was no mistaking him for a vampire. "I... I seem to have not reverted completely."

Willow blinked. "Reverted? Xander..."

"I know, Will." He slowly moved to a seat with a predator's prowling stride. In the back of his head, Artemis' instincts urged caution and to keep his blades in easy reach. "Entreri's knowledge, instincts and skills? They're all still here. Some of his mannerisms, too."

Giles frowned. "Who?"

He propped his feet up on the table with a sigh. Entreri's residual attitude wasn't happy with the idea, but _Xander_ needed to talk to someone. "Years ago, Artemis Entreri was born in Memnon. It's a medium sized city in the Calim desert..."

It didn't take long to tell the tale. The girls were actually interested in listening to the story of an abused child turned thief, then assassin. They frowned as he described the feud with Drizzt. They shuddered as he described Menzoberranzan and the empty mirror that had made Entreri begin to reassess his life. They made several nasty comments about Jarlaxle's manipulations. They cheered as the Crystal Shard was destroyed and commiserated with him over the unforeseen side effects of absorbing a Shade. In the back of his mind, the remnant of Entreri felt vindicated when they liberally cursed Calihye's betrayal and Jarlaxle's trick with the enchanted flute.

Finally, Xander finished and glanced at the Watcher. Giles had been polishing his glasses for over an hour at this point. "You know... You keep that up and you'll forcibly change the prescription."

"Huh? Oh. I sincerely doubt that." The older man put them back on. "So, you say that you have all of his skills and knowledge?"

Xander nodded. "With a heaping helping of most of his instincts and – strangely enough – his vocabulary."

"This is quite astounding. I wonder what would have happened if you had dressed as a Watcher."

The girls laughed and Xander couldn't hold back his grin. "No offense? Most boring costume ever. The spell would have probably ignored me on general principle."

* * *

><p><em>Waterdeep<em>

Artemis woke from the strangest dream he had ever experienced. He looked around quickly to verify his location, then lay back on the lumpy mattress. _I am not going to eat here again tonight, if __**that's**__ what I can expect from this inn's cooking... What are Twinkies and why do I crave one?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Alternate Halloweens**

_Second in a series of one shots, just because I've never done a BTVS fiction (or a BTVS **Halloween** fiction) and I feel left out._

_**Disclaimer**_

_Seriously? Okay, I do not own BTVS or this version of Loki. I'd like to but, alas, Joss Whedon and a bunch of folks working for Marvel got there before me. _

_If **you** are the rights holder to Loki and you want to sign him over, just let me know. I can pay you a dollar a week. That'd only take forever, but – hey – I promise my great-great-great-grandkids are good for it... If I ever have a kid._

_**Sites Posted**_

_This should only appear on fanfiction dot net and TtH._

* * *

><p><strong>Reality 667<strong>

_Halloween Night_

This.. was not where he was a moment before.

Normally, that wouldn't bother him. He'd been known to travel through realms in the blink of an eye, simply for the sake of his own amusement. But, he had never – _never_ – been transported without his consent before. It was unnerving.

And...

The body around him was alternately freezing from his very nature and burning in the maelstrom that was his magic. It was being consumed from the inside out, unable to contain him. It would die, ultimately, if he didn't stop it. The death would be painful and slow, but he would be freed. The only problem was that he'd have to _experience _that death along with his host, and he most certainly _did not_ want to do that.

Loki _Odinson? Laufeyson? _He supposed it no longer mattered... He was The God of Mischief, and – he may not be the hero type – but he understood self-preservation. He understood it very well.

So he delved into the only slightly-protesting mind of his host. His goal was the knowledge that would allow him to break the spell containing him. And then he found something interesting in his memories. _A valkyrie desendant?_

In the days of old, he knew, the valkyrie had walked with humans. They had married them. Indeed, the combination had been so common that no one had remarked upon it after a while. Doing so would have been commenting that it was raining while standing in a hurricane – pointless.

He frowned. These Watchers were ill-using the gift of a strong warrior, if the boy's memories and half-formed ideas were anything to go by. Perhaps he'd research it more thoroughly later. If he didn't get distracted by dealing with his brother...

He found the memory he sought. The person who had encouraged the boy to masquerade as a god for the sake of this chaos. He glanced at the activity around him appreciatively. _And it is most certainly a beautiful chaos._

Still, he couldn't allow it. He would not allow it. No mere mortal could be permitted to play with _him_ this way. It set a bad precedent.

He allowed himself – just for a moment – to savor the joy the boy had felt on being offered the costume. Apparently, he was awed and pleased to be able to represent him on this celebration of 'trick or treat.' His approval of such a mischievous celebration aside, Loki couldn't help but appreciate someone who felt he was... _worthy? Is that the word?_ It mattered not.

He completely missed the red-haired girl running towards him and screaming his host's name.

With a small poof, he was gone. Time and space bent around him and he was breaking the nose of the 'Chaos Mage' who dared to think that Janus – _Janus! – _was a better embodiment than he. A few alterations to the spell, and he smashed the statue to the ground. His lips twitched into a smirk as he was semi-forcibly ejected from the host body.

_You know how to reach me, Child of Chaos._

Xander shook himself slightly and looked down at the unconscious body of Ethan Raine. His hand lifted and there was now a – literal – ass sleeping where the man had once been. Loki had left behind many things. Knowledge. Instinct. Magical power.

He fingered the sigil of Loki that hung from a chain around his neck. It had been plastic. Now it was metallic, hard in a way that the metals of Earth were not. _Uru-metal_ his mind supplied. _A true link to my new patron._

After a moment's consideration, he eyed the creature and smiled. A simple transmogrification was too boring. It was _so_ last century. The ass changed. The body was that of a nanny goat, heavy with young. The head was a dog's – a Pomeranian, if he wasn't mistaken. The front legs were that of a chicken and the rear legs had been replaced by the large wheels of the wheelchair in the corner.

_Much better._ He let his mind drift to finding his friends, but then decided that he had other things to do at the moment. He didn't know how long this would last, and he definitely wanted to have a _chat_ with the drunk that called itself his father. _This will be amusing._

* * *

><p><em>The Morning After<em>

The others were looking at him in shock. Whether it was because his eyes were now a vivid, startling green, or because he no longer wore a garish Hawaiian shirt and jeans was up for debate. He stood there, half in shadow and half in light, waiting for their reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

"Xander?" Willow's voice cut through the room. "What happened? Are you all right?"

He looked at her, then at the others. "Your concern, though late, is most appreciated. As you can no doubt tell, I experienced an.. _enlightening.._ time last night." He took an inordinate amount of pleasure in watching their eyes widen at his changed speech pattern. "There seem to have been some consequences to the mischief that may or may not fade in time."

Giles practically ripped his glasses off of his head in his haste to polish them. "W-what...? W-who? How?"

He allowed a not-so-comforting smirk to grace his features. "Ah, now that is a tale. One told best around a crackling fire with wolves howling in the night. But, I suppose that a library full of dusty tomes and nearly-accurate facts will have to do."

He moved to sprawl in a newly-created green wing back chair with Loki's nonchalantly elegant grace and seemingly casual disregard. "I suppose it began last night. Or it began centuries ago. Or full turnings of fate and reality. No place I begin is truly the beginning. Merely a blip of a reference point in a cosmos that ceaselessly annihilates and re-creates itself.

"I assure you, however, that I am Xander Harris. I am merely changed. Rupert, I have your old friend – Ethan – and my new patron deity to thank for the differences. Though only my deity has earned gratitude for my survival." He met the horrified Watcher's eyes. _Yes, now you see the pendant. _"What do you know of Loki? Known as Odinson and as Laufeyson?"

Giles glasses cracked in his hand.

* * *

><p><em>In A Place Between<em>

Loki watched the Watchers. He spun time back and forward. He turned the weave of Fate to the left, to the right, sideways and upside down. Every replay of their actions just infuriated him further.

He knew what it was like to be weak. He knew what it felt like to have forces controlling you. He knew what it meant to scream for death and have it denied. The Slayer, Sineya... She could have been reliving his life – only averting Ragnarok instead of causing it. Over and over again her life was taken and restarted, her soul migrating to yet another vessel. Just so that these "Powers That Be" could claim that they were maintaining some foolish Balance.

Worlds shuddered as alignments subtly changed. The weave of Fate slipped out of the grasp of its Weavers – the Norns. An unprecedented and unforetold event had occurred. Never, in all of past and present...

A Destroyer feeling true sympathy for a Savior. Would he act upon it? How could he? Would he change all of reality for some paltry mortal?

Again and again he twisted the weave around, unaware that it was now his and no other could change it unless he willed. His thoughts whirled about his head in a dance that only he could truly and utterly comprehend. _How can they not see that perfect balance is as horrible as perfect good or perfect evil? All three concepts stifle creativity, free will... Chaos._

An evil smirk played around his lips as an idea formed. It was dark. It was deadly. The potential for destruction was... extravagantly high. A laugh bubbled out of his throat. It was perfect.

In a blink, he was standing on the Hellmouth. A whisper of magic and he passed through the seal. A lifetime or a minute later, he was standing in the presence of Surtr. _How do they not know that this place of fire and rock is Múspellsheimr? _

He gazed upon the Fire jötunn and let a smile play about his lips. "It is not time for Ragnarok yet, my friend. But!" He held up one long finger to halt the other male's words before he could speak. "But... I have an idea for a game. One that I think will please you, even as it angers the 'Powers That Be.' I have seen the weave of Fate, my friend, and we can use this to our advantage in this trivial entertainment."

Surtr, Fire Jötunn, First Evil, Destroyer of All, smiled. "Tell me more."

Loki leaned back upon nothing and crossed his legs. He pulled a Twinkie out of midair and offered it to Surtr. The jötunn refused, so he shrugged and took a bite. He chewed and swallowed. _Why did I never sample these before? Delicious. _"The Council of Watchers think themselves masters of our Game. I propose that we show them who truly rules the darkness..."

* * *

><p><em>Just an FYI. We're in the process of moving... I may or may not update any time soon. It just depends.<em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**

_I do not own BTVS. I also don't own Star Wars._

_(As I understand it, Lucas sold it to Disney... Weirdness.)_

**Note**

_I know it's been more than a month since I've posted anything. I do apologize for that. I don't want to post anything to SP&OotP until I'm sure I'm back up to par. As it is, this was written while sitting waiting during my mother's last chemo appointment._

* * *

><p><strong>Reality 665<strong>

Xahn'dyr Harhys eyed the various creatures running around him with no small amount of disdain. It was one thing to use the Dark Side. They, however, were letting it consume them and rule their decisions. Even a rogue Jedi was smarter than that.

As a Sith Inquisitor, Xahn'dyr considered himself much smarter than a rogue Jedi. He, at least, had the sense to see that emotion could never truly be separated from the mind. Controlled and directed, but never separated. Well, unless you mutilated your brain.

That was a bit drastic... even for the Jedi.

He glanced around. Primitive dwellings and even more primitive vehicles littered the terrain. There was less greenery than Alderaan, but far more than Tattooine. The stench of fossil fuels hung in the air. The smell was almost enough to overwhelm the sense of the Dark Side that radiated from somewhere nearby. Almost.

He took a deep breath, feeling it fill him to bursting. He could probably keep his more aggressive abilities running for hours just from the ambient power...

A specter ran up to him and he eyed its attire in appreciation. At least one person around here knew how to dress. Though, he was under the impression that Force Ghosts were supposed to be blue. The universe never stopped coming up with new variations, he supposed. "Xander!"

He quirked an eyebrow. Her accent was odd, but the ghost knew his name? How did everyone in the galaxy know his name? He was fairly certain that there wasn't an Empire-wide broadcast. And, why did he keep seeing her sitting in a library when he looked at her? "You are?"

"Um... Willow." She blinked at him. "I dressed up as a ghost and... now I am one. You dressed up as some Star Wars character and now... Oh." She deflated. "You don't remember because you're your character, aren't you?"

He sighed and absently used the Force to push away a strange, small alien that had decided to try to attack them. The alien decided that it didn't want to tangle with him and hurried off. "All right. I'm going to assume that you're not joking. So, either you're mad or the galaxy is even stranger than I thought."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Considering some of the things I've seen, I'm willing to take your assertion on faith. For now. For your sake, I hope that faith is not unjustified."

She started to reply, but was – once again – cut off. This time by a scream. "Oh my god! Buffy!"

The ghost ran off and Xahn'dyr sighed. He could leave this 'Willow' to her own devices, but the Force was nudging him in that direction. Besides, Sith or not, he'd never been able to resist a damsel in distress. He followed her.

Of course, he arrived just in time to see a strange brunette proclaim that an oncoming vehicle was a demon. Another image skittered through his mind scape: a table, piled high with sharpened bits of wood and... food? He ignored it and started to correct her, only for several small aliens to come running towards them. His lightsaber ignited with a snap-hiss, only for the ghost to try to grab him. "No! They're children!"

He rolled his eyes and Force pushed them away. "Fine. However, if you don't want me to kill them, then we need to get somewhere that I won't be overwhelmed by sheer numbers."

"Buffy's place. It should be safe."

The insane brunette tried to flee, proclaiming him a warlock. He rather easily snagged and levitated her behind him with the Force as he walked. "Inquisitor with a specialization as a Sorcerer, actually. At least, that's what they called it on Korriban. I've no clue what you call it on this planet."

They fled to the house and shared a round of conversation that vexed him no end. Especially when the brunette – Buffy, he now knew – called him feeble. Add in the complaints from 'Cordelia' – the other brunette – and he was very close to the edge. It took all he had to keep from slamming them into a wall or shocking them into oblivion.

He finally only managed to restrain himself because he was too busy pondering the blank spot in the Force that called itself 'Angel.' He didn't look like any of the angels that Xahn'dyr was familiar with, that's for sure. For starters, they were attractive. This guy was anything but, even ignoring his own preference for women.

And his lack of Force presence was... creepy.

Of course, nothing ever goes right in the life of Xahn'dyr Harhys. Therefore, someone – something – had to break in through the back. And, Buffy had to flee. And, of course, everyone wanted to go save her. Wasn't she supposed to be this great warrior? That's what the ghost seemed to think.

Still, he tagged along. He didn't have much else to do and the Force was still insisting that he stick close to them. Their path eventually took them into an abandoned warehouse. His companions started stacking things against the doors. He just rolled his eyes and levitated several larger pieces of machinery into the pile. He knew that the barriers wouldn't stop the aliens for long, but it seemed to make them happy.

Of course, he was right. The barriers fell and they were soon bombarded by the tiny aliens. Xahn'dyr had had enough. His blade ignited and he joined the fray. A blonde male with the same lack of Force presence as Angel stayed well back and muttered something that sounded distinctly like, "Bloody hell! A lightsaber!"

The male fled and left his minions to be slaughtered. Xahn'dyr just sighed. He was probably going for reinforcements. He glanced at his companions from the corner of his eye. Angel was tossing the aliens around, but otherwise not harming them. Cordelia was putting her abilities with a staff to decent use. Buffy... was cowering off to the side.

Yeah. Great warrior.

He ignored the shriek from Buffy as he decapitated another small alien. These things were worse than krilliks. They were everywhere and just seemed to keep coming. He tossed his lightsaber, using the Force to control it as it flew through the air and sliced through a dozen or so that were sneaking up on Cordelia. He ignored her gasped thanks as he summoned his blade to him. Quick as thought, he was back to swinging it around like a just-graduated Juggernaut.

He gave a sigh. If his Master found out about this, he was going to never live it down. The most 'Light' Sith in the Empire running around killing indiscriminately. Yeah.

_Listen to your instincts, they said. They won't lead you astray, they said. More like they'll lead you into a load of trouble and then drown you in hydrocarbons before setting off a thermal detonator,_ he griped inwardly. He tossed his aggravation into his next round of Force Lightning.

A small alien shrieked as the attack impacted. He was rather pleased to see the attack arc to a second and then a third. This place was incredible for his powers. He absently wondered if there was some artifact that was causing this. Perhaps something from the time of Tulak Hord? Or another remnant of Revan's experiments?

And then the Force went sideways, diagonal, upside down and backwards.

Xander Harris came back to reality with a jerk, only to find himself staring at dozens of maimed and dead children. If he'd been paying attention, he might have been disappointed to realize that none of his friends even noticed when he fled. Disappointed, but not surprised. He was just the Zeppo, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>The Morning After<strong>

Buffy, Giles and Willow looked at each other and then looked at him. He was standing in the shadows, wearing his costume from the night before. The hood was pulled low over his face, and the lightsaber was clipped to his belt. Buffy wondered, with no small amount of trepidation, why all her hair felt like it was standing on end.

"Problem?" Giles' voice was mildly curious.

Xander lifted the lightsaber and ignited it... without moving his hands. "Problem."

Willow eeped and jumped backwards, but Xander just rolled his eyes and shut off the weapon. He paused, getting a quick mental flash of a pretty blonde in hippie clothes, but shook it off. "Relax, Willow. You're my best friend. If I'm going to kill anyone it'll be Cordelia."

She looked at the teasing grin on his face and smiled. He was just kidding. Right? "Okay. Can I watch?"

"Sure." He turned back to Giles. "I need to get as far away from the Hellmouth as possible."

* * *

><p><strong>In a Galaxy far, far away...<strong>

Xahn'dyr rolled to his feet and groaned. That was probably the strangest dream he'd ever had. He walked out of his quarters and onto the main hall of his Fury-class ship. 2V-R8 twitched frantically at his approach. "I'm sorry, Master. I was unable to acquire the 'Twinkies'... Please don't deactivate me!"

Xahn'dyr blinked. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Andronikus!"

"Yeah?" The scoundrel's voice called back to him from the bridge.

"We at Nar Shaddaa yet?"

"Nope."

"Wake me when we get there." He called back, before turning on his heel and heading back to his quarters. Maybe if he went back to bed the galaxy would make sense again the next time he woke up.


End file.
